


I Can Keep Myself Afloat

by BrokenHazelEyes



Series: OT4- Greg/Ed/Sam/Spike [10]
Category: Flashpoint
Genre: BAMF Spike, Horribly Written, Hurt Spike, Hypothermia, Other, Protective Ed, Protective Greg, Protective Sam, Spike Whump, Spike rescues someone, from a river, in winter, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4281492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no time to think as the suspect’s agitated stance worsened, and the team watched in horror as the man—his heels resting on the edge of the rickety bridge—tossed his young female hostage into the frothing, icy waters a few feet below. <br/>___<br/>a.k.a. Spike rescues a hostage from a river, in winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Keep Myself Afloat

**Author's Note:**

> I was just toying around with this idea, and I really didn't expect it to go anywhere so here's what I got. I know it's sucky, so bear with me. Hope you enjoy, and have a great day.
> 
> A/N: I do not own Flashpoint, nor the characters. I do not make a profit from my writing. However, it is my writing so please don't repost anywhere. Thank you!

Bruised and pimpled with winter-heavy storm clouds, the sky made the rushing river seem even darker than it already was and even though team one was in their thick gear, they could feel the cold seeping under their skin. Greg tried again, speaking to the subject with a calm voice, but he wasn’t responding and by the crazed look in his eyes the man wasn’t up for negotiating. The more Greg said, the more feral his gaze got.

There was no time to think as the suspect’s agitated stance worsened, and the team watched in horror as the man—his heels resting on the edge of the rickety bridge—tossed his young female hostage into the frothing, icy waters a few feet below.

Spike didn’t waste time, because the girl wasn’t coming back up to the surface and the current was too strong to fight for long—especially in the freezing conditions. So he ran to the bridge, leaving his gun on the ground by the SUVs, ripping off his Kevlar vest as he sprinted. The heavy material hit the ground with a dull noise, and he was glad that his pistol was sitting on the hood of one of the cars so he didn’t have to worry about ripping that off too. Without a second thought, he threw himself into the drop and into the danger below while squeezing his eyes shut and preparing for the onslaught of subzero liquid.

It was still no preparation for the shock his body felt as he went under the surface.

It wasn’t that deep, which was good, and when Spike resurfaced he could see a dark spot in the water and he swam towards it—pushed by the water as it soaked his gear and tried to drag him under.

His entire body burned, and Greg was leaning over the edge of the bridge shouting, but Spike didn’t want to respond in fear of the water overtaking his mouth. Instead, he focused on the mop of hair just visible as he got closer, and he swung an arm around the girl before pulling her to his chest and being sure to keep her head above water.

“You okay?” He asked fast, feet and hands numb and legs starting to feel like someone had set them ablaze, and she nodded—coughing up water—but didn’t say anything back.

Tightening his hold, Spike eyed the edge of the river and tried to grab his footing on the rocky bottom below. His boots, sopping, quickly caught traction but it took everything he had to not let the current sweep his legs out from under him. This hurt even more, somehow, having his wet upper body exposed to the biting wind chill.

It took an agonizing and exhausting seven steps to get out of the heart of the river and onto the muddy shore—snow making it even more slippery. The girl clung to his leg, shivering hard against him, and he pulled her into his arms—tight against his chest, trying to give what little warmth he had because he didn’t want to take off her wet clothes until he had something to wrap her in—before peering back at Greg, who was now a mere speck that was a testimony to how far the river had taken them.

He saw another bridge just down the muddle slope, and he smiled at the girl before heading towards it as both their bodies were wracked with shivers.

“Let’s get back, go find some hot chocolate.” He tried to sooth her, seeing the familiar look of shock in her young gaze. His own mind was still reeling from the course of events, too.

“That sounds good,” the girl said, teeth chattering, and clung tighter to him.

It wasn’t a long walk, and he was lucky because a police cruiser met him just beyond the bridge—blankets piled in her arms as she took the girl from Spike and wrapped the small frame up.

“Here,” She called, turning away from the girl for a second to throw Spike a couple blankets and he shivered before thanking her.

Basic training melting back into use, Spike unbuttoned his shirt and pushed off his pants so he stood, quaking, in his boots and boxers and he tightly wrapped the blankets around his frame.

He saw one of the SRU SUVs driving up—leaving thick prints in the snow—and he started to walk towards it with clothes held in one too-pale hand. Sam jumped out first, running over and wrapping Spike in a bear hug before swearing at the chill clinging to his lover’s skin.

“Need to get you warm,” The sniper said, mostly to himself, and dragged the bomb tech towards the SUV. The heat surrounded them instantly, the two snipers and the negotiator obviously having turned up the temperature inside, and Spike nearly melted against the seat as uncontrollable tremors slid up and down his spine.

Sam pressed himself tight against Spike’s side, helping him readjust the blankets, and Ed worked the sodden boots and socks from the Italian’s feet. Greg was sitting in the driver’s seat, watching his three lovers cautiously, and Ed reached over and squeezed the sergeant’s shoulder reassuringly.

“You know,” Sam said lightly, trying to lighten the mood, “I can think of a good way to warm you up, Spike.”

“Uh huh,” Spike said through his teeth, his speech slurred, the pins and needles feeling attacking his body, “I’m sure you can, Samtastic.”

“We should take him to the hospital—get him checked out just to be safe,” Ed said from next to the bomb tech, rubbing his thumb against the brunette’s cheek to try and warm it up. He frowned at the pallor of Spike’s skin, pulling the blankets even tighter around his younger lover.

“I’m fine,” Spike chattered, voice still garbled, “Just cold.”

“Spike—,” Greg started, and it didn’t take anything more than that—just the sergeant’s commanding look as his name faded to silence in the car.

“Did you get the subject?” Spike asked as the SUV pulled away towards the main street, and Sam nodded against his neck with a shaky breath.

“I told everyone, woods and Romans don’t mix,” Spike rambled, filling in the silence, and leaned against Ed, allowing the sniper to buckle him in.

“It was a river,” Greg said, eyes focused on the roads but the corners of his eyes were crinkled with amusement as his worry faded away.

“It was a river running through a forest,” Spike corrected him, “not a good place for my people.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Sam jumped in, and the conversation quieted after that as they drove towards the hospital—Spike rolled his eyes at his lovers’ overprotective nature, but humored them anyway.

Besides, it meant lots of cuddles so he had no reason to complain.

 


End file.
